


Crossing the Line

by vojavodun



Series: Acts of Aggression [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Gags, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Kissing, Rape/Non-con Elements, Riding, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vojavodun/pseuds/vojavodun
Summary: The Joker unexpectedly encounters Batman and takes this chance to make a move





	Crossing the Line

Winters in Gotham City are harsh and unrelenting, with chilly, windy weather that can last for half of the year. Bruce knows this is one of those cold nights, despite it not being one of the notoriously freezing months.

His head is thumping as he stares at the ceiling. It's not covered properly, with wires and metal pipes scattered across like a spiderweb. He deducts that he is in a warehouse of some sort, which explains the low temperature inside and bad lighting. He can't move. His hands are tied with a strong cord to metal table legs above his head from where he lies flat. He’s been tugging and pulling ever since he came to about half an hour ago but to no avail. Either the table is really heavy or it's bolted into the floor. 

He can't completely remember why or how he got stuck here. The throbbing in his head and numbness of his body distracts him from organizing his thoughts and recalling the previous events. The initial fit of panic drained his energy and he is now mostly still, only pulling every now and then. 

Bruce is gazing up at the ceiling slightly dazed and wants to vomit when he feels someone land on his stomach with no regard for his well-being. His eyes are as wide as saucers when he tilts his head to look up, nearly cracking his neck since it happens so fast. His suspicions are confirmed and he is somehow relieved when he sees the Joker's usual garish appearance. His purple glove-encased fingers tap absentmindedly on his stomach, and he is looking at him with a grin that Bruce finds especially suspicious, and rightfully so. “Hi…” the Joker says, drawing it out almost sheepishly. “Believe me when I tell you I didn’t really want to whack you so hard with this.” He holds up a metal pipe and pats it dearly as if it has feelings. “How long have you been around?”

Bruce somehow finds it in him to relax a bit. He regains his breath - though it remains shallow - and forces himself to get used to the weight on him. The Joker is using him like a seat. His legs are extended and his shoes are resting by his head. Bruce knows that he knows the answer to his own question. “A while. How long have you been watching me?”

“A while.” Bruce hears a loud clang as the Joker drops the pipe. “I hope your head doesn't hurt that much.” 

“Do you really care?”

The Joker whines and giggles shortly after a pause. “Why won’t you let me talk? Huh? I can’t say anything without you complaining.” He sighs and bounces, earning a strained exhale from the Batman. “Oh, please. I can't be hurting you like this.” He pats his stomach and says, “You're a strong boy.”

Bruce vocalizes his concern to the clown in a way he hopes will receive a proper answer. “What am I doing here?” He pulls on his restraints to emphasize his question. “What happened?” 

He tries to remember; some fragments come together. The last thing recalls is hearing commotion on the street. Gang members up to something, or maybe the mob… definitely some kind of malicious activity. The men - five or six - went inside a dark building after a brief chat. His memory is fuzzy after that moment, but he does remember getting inside undetected and seeing those men huddled around something. 

The Joker sighs again and turns in an uncomfortable looking manner. He hitches his arms beneath the Batman's knees and pulls his legs up so his feet are flat against the floor, then repositions himself so he's leaning back against his thighs. He has crafted himself a very comfortable chair now and clasps his hands together. “Those guys were a couple of gangsters up to no good. Your bat senses picked that up, and now they are no more. Don't worry. I was there and I didn't wanna let you go so now we're here, just me and you.” He finishes with a grin and looks at him as if this is a perfectly acceptable circumstance in which they are conversing.

Bruce searches his memory once again to confirm what he's just said. His description of the night’s events is not overly detailed and he concludes it sounds about right. But he is not satisfied with the reason why he is restrained. In the back of his mind he knows there may not be an explicit reason; the Joker always wants to get his hands on him. 

“You're surprisingly comfy for such a stiff.” The Joker's eyes are focused on his frown and he frowns as well. “How can I please you? Do you like pet names?” He leans forward. Bruce can feel him tracing patterns on his chest as if to keep his hands busy. “Dear? Baby? Sweetheart? Darling?” He closes his eyes like he is savoring each yummy word, then looks at the Batman with a loving glint in his dark eyes and taps the cheek of his mask. “Say the word and I'll designate one just for you.” 

Bruce is blushing now, and he's sure the Joker can tell. He does indeed, and lets Bruce know by touching the corner of his mouth affectionately. He turns his head away to escape the pinch, but the Joker’s hand only follows. “Why am I here?” He asks sharply. 

The Joker blows a little raspberry and leans back, but doesn't stay that way for long; Bruce straightens his legs and the he falls flat on his back with a startled sound. “There doesn't have to be a reason for everything.” He sits up again and pats his chest in rhythm with his words. “But I’ve told you already. You're my hostage.” He changes position, this time scooting back a bit so he can rest his chin rest on top of his hands as if he's lying flat on a mattress. Bruce sees his amused smile when he looks down. “I haven’t seen you for a while. Is wanting to see how you're doing a crime?”

“Enough games,” Bruce says. “Let me go.” The Joker is silent, and he rests his cheek on Bruce's chest like he is trying to hear his heartbeat. This only annoys Bruce more, and he asks, “You've got me tied up as if you're gonna kill me. Are you?” The deep tone of his voice seems to echo around the room for a moment.

He hears a sigh, and then the Joker is sitting up on his stomach again. He reaches inside of his long coat and pulls out a black semi-automatic pistol. Bruce doesn't flinch, not even when he sees the Joker holding it like he will shoot him, but his eyes watch it carefully. He has the urge to reaffirm his enemy that he wouldn't kill him, but just before he thinks about opening his mouth to get a word out, the gun is in his mouth, pressing against his tongue and teeth in an unpleasant manner. The Joker leans over him and his calmness is what makes Bruce the most uncomfortable and frightened.

“Didn't I tell you already? Didn't I tell you?” He leans even closer. “You're here because I want you here. I didn't think it was that hard to understand?” He hums and presses it a few centimeters deeper; Bruce twitches, breathing heavily through his nose. He can smell the Joker's rank breath as he exhales noisily. The Joker watches his face intently and twists the gun a little in a threatening fashion. “Don't worry, I won't put a hole in your mouth. But go downstairs later and the Polish guy will show you what that looks like.” Bruce stares at him while trying to keep his breathing calm and grimaces when the gun gets taken out of his mouth, shiny with spit. The Joker looks at it, and then down at him with a smile. “This reminds me.” He taps the end of it on the Batman’s thin lips. “I’ve got something nice for you. A real treat.”

He sets the gun to the side and slides forward so he's on Bruce's chest. After he flings his coat open and out out of the way, he reaches for the button on his purple trousers. Bruce clenches his fists and his breathing gets louder - evidently the change is loud enough for the Joker to hear. “Oh, shush,” he says flippantly, patting his face in mock comfort. His other hand drags the zipper down then pulls his hard cock out easily since he's not wearing underwear. “You're more scared of my cock than my gun?” He giggles and traces Bruce’s mouth while stroking himself leisurely. His cock is dangerously close to his chin. “Now that's funny.” He takes turns smacking both of his cheeks gently, playing with him a bit. “Did you know you're funny?”

Bruce is steaming red and keeps his mouth zipped shut. What was he expecting? He hadn't seen the Joker since they were in that high rise where he beat and fucked the daylights out of him - of course the clown was going to come back for more, or revenge, one way or the other. Tying him up is right up his alley. No wonder he's stuck like this. A million thoughts both relevant and irrelevant flash through Batman's mind, and he thinks his vision is getting a bit blurry. He blinks frantically and surely the Joker comes back into focus, his red mouth upturned and dark eyes trained fondly on his face. His cock is in view and he can't ignore it, flushed pink and proud and as hard as it could possibly be. 

He hums, his gaze fixed on Batman. “You like it?” He touches Bruce's chin and scoots a bit further up. “Hm. I've been thinking… you really do the works to me. Did you know that? Oh my, I'm excited. Hm…” The Joker taps his cock on Bruce's lips and rubs the tip against them, making his mouth even more shiny than it already is. 

Bruce snaps his jaws like an agitated dog, causing the Joker to squeal and burst into giggles, pulling his cock away fast so the Batman doesn't get any teeth on it. “Oh no, no, no, no! That will never do!” His free hand smacks him in the face hard, and he squeezes two fingers into his mouth, crooking them and prying his jaw open. “One more chance. I know you wanna hurt me but save your bites for somewhere else, huh?” He sticks the tip of his cock inside; it's a tight squeeze between his fingers and the Batman's resistant mouth but it's okay, and he exhales a satisfied sigh. “I didn't know you had it in you to be so mean. But you sure showed me.” 

Bruce’s mouth is filled with salty taste even though only the head of his cock is in his mouth. He is grimacing but perhaps the Joker can't see it since his face is distorted by his fingers and cock. He takes his fingers out after about a half minute of observation time to make sure the Batman won't bite a piece off. Bruce watches him reach for the gun and twirl it once he's got a good grip on it. He doesn't notice he's making noise until the Joker shushes him again, pinching the pointy nose of his mask and turning his face back and forth with it, watching his cock move with the motion. He forces himself a bit deeper; Bruce squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Have you thought of a pet name yet? I'm starting to like the idea of calling you something nice. Hm. Would you ever call me something sweet? I like darling, I must say. Sweetheart is good too. Maybe you should call me that.” He pulls his wet cock out of Bruce's lax mouth and taps it on his lips. It's quiet for a moment like he's going to speak but then he starts to giggle, pausing in between to hum like he usually does and softly murmur unintelligibly.

A string of strange noises leaves the Joker’s mouth as he puts the tip in his mouth then pulls back, repeating those movements several times. The gun is resting on Bruce's cheek and he's worried; the Joker is holding it lazily, and he really wouldn't appreciate him pulling the trigger on accident. But he's too stunned and is having trouble focusing on his mouth being stretched and sloppily fucked and the gun touching his face. He's not sure what he's looking at anymore, or if his eyes are even open. Bruce wishes he was unconscious. 

The Joker finally stops using Bruce's mouth and strokes himself slowly, spreading Bruce's spit all over until his entire cock is shiny like a sticky lollipop. “I know you're not so eager, I know. But it's not just me time, it's you time, too.” He waves his purple fingers in front of Bruce's eyes. “I know what will snap you out of it.” He throws his leg to the side and gets off of Bruce completely, tucking his wet cock away and zipping his fly. The sudden removal of all that weight makes him take a deep breath but it's as if his lung capacity has decreased. He still can't get enough air in, and his breaths are very loud now. Bruce wants to spit and forget about the taste of the Joker's cock, but is temporarily distracted from that when he catches the Joker’s last statement and cranes his neck to follow the his movements. He could be up to anything, and Bruce is entirely sure he won't like it. 

Next thing he knows, it will be the Joker's cock forced into his ass. He's imagining the revenge the Joker has in store. His cheeks are flaming red as he watches him, who is now squatting near his legs. He hears the clang of metal and watches as he wields a knife from his coat. “Don't move,” is all the Joker says to him. One hand presses along his legs and hips and groin, the other one guiding the knife as it hovers, and it's then Bruce realizes he's looking for the weak spots of his suit and a good place to start cutting. He flinches visibly and he makes a move to kick at the Joker, but the clown is too quick. “I said don't move!” He swings his leg over and sits just above the Batman's knees. Then he sighs and throws his hands up like he's had enough. “This won't do.”

The Joker wields the metal pipe and after some moments of relentless grappling and multiple hits, he has left the Batman to observe the echo of his mask cracking and the symptoms of a concussion from his new position in a chair, his limbs bound to it so he is immobilized. The sound of his suit being cut resembles sawing since it is made of tough materials. This is really bad for Bruce; the sound pains him; he's being exposed, and this suit is ruined. It won't be hard to get a new one (he has a backup already) but it's still a nuisance. The Joker is cutting with hardly any regards for anything that might be in the way, and it feels like he has been working for ages at getting the suit off despite him using a knife so sharp it could seemingly slice through a rock. But he isn't trying to remove it completely; Bruce finds out he's just opening it. He doesn't have to look to know he's peeling the parts above his crotch away, and sooner than later, his cock is out in the open, half hard and at the Joker's mercy. 

Bruce doesn't realize his eyes are closed until the stillness becomes noticeable as if a scream broke the silence. He looks down to see the Joker on his knees with his hands now empty and naked. His gloves are nowhere to be seen. Bruce finds himself wishing for the first time that the Joker was making eye contact, staring at his face like he wants to read his mind. But the Joker's gaze is elsewhere: stuck on the Bruce's cock. He presses his lips together and takes deep breaths to try to regain control of his heart rate, but he can't, not when the Joker is sitting between his legs looking like he wants to gobble him up. “Stop,” he finds himself saying. The Joker finally tilts his head up. 

“What? There's no time for shyness now --- I think you’ll enjoy this!” He uses Bruce's thighs for support and pushes himself up. “I'll help you out a little, even though I don't mind hearing you.” He shoves something soft into Bruce's mouth a second later and then the Joker's chest is centimeters away from his face as he leans over him to tie something off behind his head. Then he comes back down and crouches so they are both at the same eye-level. He touches over Bruce's mouth and licks his lips in his face, then hums with satisfaction. “Hm, that's nice… that's very nice…” He drops back down and pats Bruce's thighs, looking up at him with a ridiculous facial expression that makes Bruce shiver. 

Bruce's breathing is deafening and he is definitely panicking. He was panicking already but now that feeling has been magnified, though he is somewhat grateful that he's not getting bent over and fucked… at least not yet. Bruce jerks when he feels the Joker's warm hand on his cock that is getting harder by the second. He hates himself for it. He can hardly stand to watch as the Joker lowers his head and licks his cock from the base to the tip. He takes his time, too. Bruce jerks his hips as if that would help him get away, but it does not. The strong cord holds him down sufficiently with no chance of escaping unless the Joker decides to let him go. 

Bruce's protests are muffled and he's now thankful for the gag so the Joker doesn't have to hear the pathetic noises coming from his throat. Bruce tilts his head down to see him licking up and down his length at a painfully slow pace. 

The Joker is very pleased with what he sees. The Batman has such a nice big cock: it's rosy, hard, and tasty. Perfect. And just like he thought, it appears that he grooms himself nicely; the patch of hair around his cock is rather short. He looks and tastes so yummy. “Hm… you're a real treat,” the Joker says after another taste. He latches on to the underside and sucks a spot under it that could turn colors soon. “Do you shave?” He pets the skin just above his cock and trails his fingers down to his balls, and it makes Bruce lurch. 

He is almost hysterical. He thinks a heart attack is just around the corner, and is scared that he's going to come while the Joker worships his cock. Watching him lick slowly and kiss it is too much. His brain is swimming with thoughts asking him how he could be as aroused as he is, why he's somehow enjoying this humiliating moment. He can't ponder for long because then the Joker takes him in his mouth like he wants to suck his brains out. Bruce's groans and jerks in the seat, moving his thighs a bit like that will fend the Joker off, but of course it doesn't. Next time he looks he sees the top of the Joker's head, his dirty hair falling in his face as he leans down to try and take him all the way. He doesn't make it but doesn't gag either, coming up with a pop. Bruce can see red marks all over his cock from the Joker's mouth and he finds it oddly arousing, his cock twitching as he stares. He hopes the Joker didn't feel it, but the clown is humming again and licking his lips with that alluring glint in his eye that Bruce is now convinced is natural for this guy. Bruce has noticed that the Joker constantly has an enticing air about him, like he is always capable, ready, and willing to seduce. Bruce isn't sure if he does that on purpose: if he looks at people through his eyelashes that way or speaks cryptically for this reason, because it seems like it's just the way he is, that there is no other way. He does this all the time; his charm is nauseating, and Bruce feels guilty for being captivated, even momentarily. 

The Joker breathes deeply to compensate for those intense moments of cock-sucking. He meets Bruce's eyes finally and rests his head on his thigh. “You know what this reminds me of?” He says, taking Bruce's cock in his hand and stroking it nice and slow with a firm grip. “Reminds me of storytime with my mother. She would read to me just like this sometimes, and come up with all kinds of outrageous ones to tell me, too. Except she didn't have a cock for me to suck.” 

Bruce looks at him with a scowl in his eyes but the Joker isn't offended by it. He looks at the Batman with no detectable emotion, though all of his attention is trained on him nonetheless. It's so unnerving, and Bruce bites the gag like that will help ease his discomfort.

“I never have the chance to talk to you so much. I have some questions for you. And, well, now seems like a good time to ask.” He reaches up and grabs Bruce's chin with his free hand, turning his head back and forth childishly. A smile graces his face now and makes his red mouth look even longer across his cheeks. “Do you like bats? Who are you under that mask?” The only thing to be heard between questions is their breathing. He stills his movement and demands that Bruce answer with the look in his eye. 

Bruce can't say anything of course, nor would he if he wasn't gagged. He wouldn't say anything revealing, at least. But he can make sounds and that he does, another pathetic one that indicates his frustration as he looks at the Joker, whose hand is still on his cock. He rests his cheek on the other like it's the storytime he described before. 

He opens his mouth to expose his nasty yellow teeth as he giggles shortly. “Oh. Oh. You want me to keep going?” He raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes. “Huh? Huh?” Bruce wishes he stayed inside tonight. “Why don't you beg for it?” The Joker reaches up to remove the gag and places it beside him on the floor. “Beg me.”

Bruce sucks in deep breaths and licks his lips, thankful that his mouth is free. “Untie me now,” he orders angrily, boiling hot with annoyance. “I don't have time for this!” His voice rises in tone but that in turn makes his head hurt more, and by the time he finishes his pathetic statement, his voice has returned to its normal timbre in order to avoid such repercussions. He doesn't want to strain any more than necessary but this clown is making things extremely difficult. Bruce almost wants to cry. 

The Joker frowns and nearly looks sad. His demeanor betrays him, however. “Batman won't beg for what he wants?” He tugs on his cock again, earning a disapproving sound amidst Bruce's pants. The Joker suddenly lets go and clambers onto his lap, catching him completely off guard. The Joker ignores Bruce's request to let him go a second time and scoots so he's really comfortable on his lap, trapping Bruce's cock between them.

Bruce doesn't know what to do when the Joker kisses him violently, clutching his face like these are his dying moments. He doesn't respond, of course not, but he's not blocking him out either. Maybe it's because his brain is fuzzy, he probably has a concussion, and it must be late at night. One of the Joker's hands drops to his cock and begins to stroke and squeeze every now and then, causing Bruce's lips to part further as he moans, and the Joker licks into his mouth when he has the chance. He begins to kiss his lips leisurely after a while, then leans back and stares Bruce in the eye. Bruce can feel strings of spit connecting their mouths from the Joker's obscenities. The lipstick on the clown’s mouth looks fainter, indicating that some has transferred to Bruce's mouth. He can feel sticky splotches all around his lips, and they make him itchy. He really wants free hands to wipe his face and get out of there. 

“Hm…” the Joker hums, licking his lips with a dopey look on his face, breaking those strings with his tongue. “I've never seen you smile. You know what? You'd look good with a big smile.” He clutches Bruce's face with both hands and kisses over every part of his mouth and surrounding skin, leaving little red spots behind to mimic the line that's always decorating his mouth and scarred cheeks. He leans back to admire his handiwork, turning Bruce's face back and forth. “Looks weird on you,” he says afterwards, licking his thumb then wiping his cheek to rub some of that color off. “But it can stay for a little while.”

Bruce's humiliation does not stop him from ordering him to get off. “Why are you doing this?” he asks desperately, another embarrassing moment that makes his face bloom with further shame. He thinks he's asked that already but that's all he can think of saying. 

His tone doesn't go undetected. The Joker hears and he moans. “Oh dear. Broken?” He tugs his cock and Bruce's mouth drops open. The Joker bends his head down and bites his bottom lip. “Given up? Give up. You're most hurt because you want to control absolutely everything. And here we are, where I'm the captain and you're my… sailor…” he giggles at his own strange analogy. “Don't like being in a position of, uh, lesser power, huh?” He slaps him in the face next, and Bruce groans with real pain since his head turns with the force. 

The Joker jerks Batman's head to face him and kisses him again. It's super sloppy and Bruce turns his head away, successfully breaking it with a nasty sucking sound; they don't stay disconnected for long, because the Joker hits him again. Bruce feels a tear escape the corner of his eye as he winces and bites his tongue to keep from audibly groaning in pain. The Joker grabs Bruce's chin and makes him look at him again, and he does. “Hey,” he hisses in his face. The Joker’s eyes are still wild though his stare is static and dissolving the little dignity Bruce has left. He feels more vulnerable and exposed with every passing second, and truly feels like he's gonna vomit if he doesn't pass out first. 

But then his fingers are slipping into his mouth, pressing against his tongue. His skin is soft. He presses hard and then turns Bruce's head to the side slowly like that and angles it so the wet corner of his eye catches the dingy light and shines. It's so unsightly; the Batman is never seen like this, he shouldn't be seen like this. The Joker knows he isn't sad, he's too tough for that. And he has no reason to be! He's just annoyed and hurting. 

He sighs and licks his lips, pulling his fingers out a bit and then pushing them back in to the knuckle. Somehow Bruce doesn't gag. “Cooperation is appealing,” he says, his eyes now on Bruce's mouth. “It would've been nice if you were this easy with my cock in your mouth.” 

Bruce bites him then, chomping hard and feeling the muscles of his cheeks clench when he does, sending another surge of pain through his head. His speech is nearly garbled when he says “You spoke too soon,” after the Joker has yanked his hand away. 

The smile returns to the Joker's face but he slaps Bruce again, then pats the cheek he hit like he wants to make it feel better. “You just won't truly give, will you?” He says, his voice floating to a higher pitch with his delight. He slides off Bruce's thighs next and drops to his knees between his legs as he previously was. He reaches up and puts those same two numb fingers in Bruce's mouth again, angling his head down so he can watch what he does. He doesn't look into Bruce's eyes as he puts his mouth on his cock again, sucking on the head after a few moments of playful licking. Bruce groans and prepares to bite again but the Joker does it first. He feels his teeth on his cock, right on the middle of it, and it's a bite: not a hard bite, but he just bit him nonetheless. Bruce wheezes and bites down too, using the Joker's fingers as a gag and closing his lips around them as he expresses his discomfort with an embarrassing groan, jerking his hips and making the chair scrape against the floor for a second. 

The Joker scrapes his teeth all the way up as he comes up for a deep breath, giggling amusedly. “That's a boy, huh?” He says, crinkling his nose and shaking Bruce's head again. “You'd be a good cocksucker if you tried. I mean, if you really tried. I bet you're good to someone you really like.” Bruce squints and pushes his fingers out with his tongue, and the Joker doesn't fight it. 

“I---I don't like you…” Bruce says, his words carried on a heavy sigh. It’s such a stupid thing to say, even he realizes. He's hot and sticky with sweat, his hands twitching from where they are stuck to the chair legs. He lost feeling in them a while ago from all his pulling. “You'll never get this chance again. Never.”

The Joker stands and clamps a hand over his mouth, leaning against Bruce's body with force that presses his back into the hard chair. His head is tilted backwards as this happens. Bruce is almost grateful to be shushed and his eyes flutter closed. He's sure this is it; he's finally going to pass out. “Okay, okay. I see. I'm losing you, huh?” He snaps in his face with his free hand then smacks Bruce again. His head stays still this time but he groans, and another set of tears fall. His voice is muffled but the Joker understands when he says stop. 

“You're a difficult one, I've gotta tell ya,” he says, removing his hand from Bruce's mouth. “Not so much fun anymore? Hm?” He lets go entirely and Bruce sees him bend down. “Don't worry, don't worry. I'll revive you. You can't drift off yet!” 

Through half-closed eyes, Bruce watches as the Joker fishes his cock out for the second time. He's still very hard. When he sits on Bruce's lap it's almost gentle, like he doesn't want to cause any more discomfort, but then Bruce feels the Joker's cock against his. Bruce's mouth is agape and his breathing is irregular and noisy; the Joker observes him looking at their cocks pressed together, gripping them with one hand as best he can. 

“Hm,” he hums and tilts his head as he looks down as well. “Which one is better, yours or mine?” Bruce feels his eyes on him like he wants a verbal answer but stays silent. Both of their cocks are leaking but the contact isn't wet, not completely, not yet. Bruce's cock is still sticky from spit but it's not enough. He's completely still, their cocks pulsing against one another. The content sigh Bruce hears makes him shiver. After a moment of observation, the Joker spits messily and first pumps himself a few times before doing the same to Bruce when he realizes it's not slippery enough. Now it's nice and wet as he jerks them both, and the Joker is surprised to hear a moan emerge from Bruce's ruined mouth that is undoubtedly the result of true arousal. 

The Joker licks the spit off his lips and does his own obscene moaning; each sound he makes seems to accentuate Bruce's pounding headache, temporarily reminding him that the city's worst terrorist is currently doing him in. The sound of his voice brings Batman back down to earth for a moment. “You know what? I was thinking about fucking you earlier. Not like me fucking you, you know, but fucking you. Me and you. Me on you.” He giggles amidst his labored breathing. “You did me so hard that day. Hm. It gives me chills when I think about it.” Bruce isn't prepared when the Joker's free hand clutches the back of his neck and pulls him close so their foreheads touch with a painful bump. He clenches his teeth as the Joker continues to speak in his face. “I don't mind what you did. Oh, of course I don't! But… but…” he pushes up against Bruce, humming in his face and flashing one of his sweetly sinister smiles, “I like this with you, I really do. Don't you?”

Bruce's hands are fisting the air with every slide of the Joker's hand on their cocks, rubbing up against one another in a way he tries to ignore and repress. It feels so good but also makes Bruce want to recoil.

He mutters something unintelligible on a strained exhale, his eyes are squeezed shut; he refuses to look at the Joker as he uses him to get off. But on the contrary. This isn't one of the Joker's selfish moments; he's doing some good for the Batman. 

He is startled by a rough kiss that lacks any kind of class and opens his eyes to witness the Joker dropping both hands down to jerk them off and twisting his face every now and then to try and take his mouth with a new angle. “Oh,” he licks his lips and moans, “Oh, yeah. Hm…” he smiles, again amused, as he strokes them both, a cock in each hand. “Let… me… think.” He tugs on Bruce's cock harshly. “I was considering maybe leaving tonight's activities to this, but I think I've changed my mind.” He hums and presses his nose against the sharp nose of the Batman's mask. “You're a superstar.”

The Joker spares not another moment and gets off of Bruce's lap, stepping out of his shoes and taking off his trousers gracelessly before pushing them aside with his foot. He's wearing striped socks that match his the colors of his clothes. He leaves his purple coat on. Bruce now sees what's coming but doesn't make an effort to fight, he became drained a short while earlier. All he can seem to feel is his cock thumping, his release awaiting: close but somehow so far away. The Joker stands over him, flicking his long coattails behind him, grabbing Bruce's cock again. “Feel that?” he asks, his voice still carrying a lower pitch. Bruce isn't entirely sure what he's referring to but that becomes clear a second later when he feels his cock against the Joker's hole. The clown presses so it nearly slips in but yields at the last moment and slides it slowly in his crack. It feels smooth and extra slippery, and Bruce realizes he has planned this all along. He bites his tongue and feels a pang in both his chest and his cock upon this revelation. “I'm completely ready this time. It's gonna be wonderful,” he croons, his pitch already ascending to a higher note. The Joker is nearly shaking with excitement. 

Finally he sinks down, and his eyelids flutter. 

It is silent for a few seconds and the Joker opens his eyes after pausing to see Bruce's squeezed shut, his lip trembling slightly as he exhales heavily. Then his head falls back, and the Joker is so pleased to hear a delicious moan from the Batman that makes his cock twitch. It's hard to be still with just an inch of the Batman’s cock in his ass, he is itching to move and take it all, just like he wanted, but if waiting a moment means he could hear such sweet sounds from the Batman, he would happily wait another moment more.

He is impatient, however, and stalls no further, sinking down to finally have him all inside. It's so hot and so satisfying, filling him up even better than just right. It feels so good to be snug on the Batman's lap, squeezing his shoulders. His moan is deep and abrasive and he clutches Bruce closely as if in an embrace, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and leaning in to him. 

“Hm… oh… you've got a cock to die for. To absolutely die for,” he says whimsically, losing control of his voice to the pleasure currently surging through his body. Bruce's eyes are still closed. The Joker leans up a bit to observe Bruce's facial expression; he looks unresponsive. After exhaling a sigh that's laced with frustration, he punches Batman clumsily but hard enough to cause a little piece of his mask to fall out of place and onto the ground, making the crack a little bigger. Batman's eyes open a second later and his gaze is frantic for a split second, jumping from the Joker’s painted face to his body and back, but it simmers down until it possesses the emptiness that resided there before. 

The Joker leans his head down, maintaining his tight grip on Bruce's shoulders. “Were you out?” He whispers in his ear, scratching on his mask and following the line that represents the cheekbone with his fingertip. He whispers like it's a comical statement but there is some genuine curiosity and awe lurking beneath the facade. “It feels that good? Huh?” His grin is as cheeky as he can muster while his ass is full of cock. 

Bruce shakes his head but the movement is faint. When the Joker moves his hips forward, pressing further into his front, he moans again. His pain is like fog in his head, rendering him somewhat unresponsive and canceling out some of his shame. The Joker begins to move, lifting his hips up and coming back down to develop a pretty stable rhythm. “Hm… oh, yes. You're fantastic,” he breathes in his face and fingers the small gap that the chip in his mask left behind.

That makes Bruce flinch, and he turns his head. The crack is over one of his temples and now exposes a part of it, and feeling the Joker touch the skin of his face does something to him. He doesn't get away, and the Joker turns his head towards him with not much space separating them. Bruce can see drops of sweat all over the Joker’s face, making the white paint shiny all over. 

“Look at me,” the Joker orders in a half-whisper, his eyes shining with seriousness and a strange sincerity and desperation; for some reason, Bruce obeys. The Joker observes that the distant look in his eye is so irregular and unlike the Batman's usual appearance and aura: sharp, attentive, quick. That's all gone now, and it's nearly laughable but could also invoke pity. The Joker doesn't feel sorry for him, however, but the sight does intrigue and strike a note somewhere within himself. 

“I wish you had some hair I could pull. Is it long or short?” he asks. “You think I can take off that mask? See what you're hiding?” He slides up and back down, a delicious movement that makes them both bite their tongues. Bruce’s murmur of no is frustrated and the Joker nearly misses it amongst the background sounds that threaten to completely take over the ambience. 

He hums and clamps his warm hand over the Batman's mouth. “Enough chatter,” he says in Bruce's face, his voice filled with more breath than genuine sound. Wrapping his arms around Bruce's shoulders once again, he uses that for leverage and begins to bounce, a much harsher motion than his previous leisurely gyrating. He feels so good. 

The Joker isn't that heavy, so the pressure on Bruce's lap isn't very bothersome. He can take the weight, and his warmth is superficially comforting in the way that the air is still cool and his presence counteracts the external temperature. It is hot as well, however, and his sweat is evidence, a result of stress from his predicament and increased body heat. It makes Bruce so uncomfortable; he feels so dirty and gross and itches to get away for fresh air, to walk and control his own body again. This discomfort is shoved away momentarily since he is balls deep in his cruel enemy, who must be having the time of his life. He is so tight and holds onto him like he wants them to fuse and stay like this forever. Bruce's hands grasp the air and he wishes desperately he were free to gain balance and somehow get out. Despite his pain and these distant, impossible wishes, he also really wants to get off. 

In no way did he expect to be so turned on by the Joker's teasing, if it may even be called that. His perverted antics stand alone. The thought of being aroused by the any of the clown’s sexual or plain violent shenanigans magnifies the ache in Bruce's head and he grimaces. 

The next time he looks at the Joker he sees that he's not paying much attention to him anymore. His eyes are barely open and horribly sensual high pitched moans are coming out of his mouth. Bruce can tell that the Joker isn't gonna last much longer, and neither is he.

It doesn't take much more for Bruce to sharply inhale and unabashedly moan, legs tensing against the cord as he grabs at nothing, finally releasing. The Joker moans too, silly and fake as he looks at Bruce's face with his eyes half closed. He slows his movements until they are shallow, barely moving, rocking slowly, getting him nice and deep. He hums and kisses Bruce square on the mouth, leaving another red smudge. “That was so good, wasn't it?” He licks his lips and his voice cracks. “Emptied your balls in me, hm?” He kisses him again and hums against his lips exaggeratedly before breaking off with a smack and a disgusting moan. “Mm… that's a very good boy!” 

Bruce's vision is blurry and he hears buzzing in his ears for a few long moments, head lolling slightly side to side as he seeks to reach equilibrium. The Joker goes on, just as moved by Bruce's orgasm, and his movements quickly turn sluttish and desperate, causing an intense pang in Bruce's head every time he lands a bounce. The Joker doesn't even drop a hand to help himself, he doesn't need it, and he's coming on a downstroke, shooting onto Bruce's chest and abdomen, even getting a little bit on his vest. The convulsions around Bruce's cock are too much, and he winces, lips parting again as he's confronted with the intense and unforgiving feeling.

Then the Joker slides off, leaving Bruce cold and empty, but also thankful for relieving him of constant pressure. Bruce makes the effort to look at him and watches as he grabs his trousers and puts them on, then his shoes. He puts on a big show. The Joker catches Bruce's eyes as he shakes out his coat and straightens his garb, even smoothing out his hair as if he has a place to be next. He stands relatively still for a minute, regaining his composure in Bruce's line of sight. His posture makes Bruce uneasy, but he can't seem to look away as he smooths down a wrinkle here and there, and picks off miscellaneous particles that may or may not be sitting on the shoulder of his coat. 

Then he approaches, standing before him closely and lifting his chin with a finger. Bruce is thankful that he's gentle this time. The Joker drags another through some of the come that landed on Bruce's hard chest and gives him a taste, letting his finger sit on his tongue. Bruce doesn't bite this time.

“Maybe you should spend the night here. You don't look like you're in good condition to go home to your cave.” He retracts his finger and taps the crack on his mask harshly, but Bruce barely moves. “I won't make that decision for you,” the Joker tells him, wiping his hand on Bruce's shoulder as if his suit is absorbent. He puts both his gloves back on before disappearing from his view. “You're a free man.” 

Bruce didn't notice he'd been cut loose until several seconds after the fact, and by the time he turned around in the chair, albeit slowly, the Joker had gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I think that will do it


End file.
